


thick on the strokes

by jessequicksters



Category: DC Extended Universe, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, The Batman (Movie 2021)
Genre: Eyeliner, M/M, bruce wears eyeliner and clark is horny: the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:09:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters
Summary: It’s just, well, from the second he stepped into the apartment and saw Bruce standing there, white shirt with his top buttons open, slightly scuffed hair, and the thick black eyeliner on his face, smokey shadows, looking through his heavy lashes at Clark, he kind of just—lost it.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 175





	thick on the strokes

Clark comes home with a bag of groceries and immediately slams into the coat rack—it happens embarrassingly quickly, the way the bag catches onto the rack and tears with a loud rip, the apples tumbling onto the cool marble tiles, the bottle of wine that cracks open, stray herbs and peppercorns rolling all over the floor.

Bruce, impossibly, turns ten shades paler. “Clark, are you—”

Clark snaps back into it, rushing to clean up the mess, but Bruce runs towards him and kneels down.

“Something’s wrong with you,” Bruce says, looking into his eyes. “Did you run into anyone? Ivy?”

“What, no,” Clark shakes it off, finally realizing how this must look. The sight of him: barging into the door, unsteady and with glazed eyes that can’t seem to meet Bruce’s.

It’s just, well, from the second he stepped into the apartment and saw Bruce standing there, white shirt with his top buttons open, slightly scuffed hair, with thick black eyeliner on his face, smokey shadows, looking through his heavy lashes at Clark, he kind of just—lost it.

“I got distracted,” Clark finally admits, raising his eyebrows towards him. “New look?”

He blinks, then lets out a soft chuckle at the realization, “Oh. Yeah, this is all Zatanna’s doing. I stepped in as stage assistant since she needed a boost in sales. Quiet season, so.”

“Ah,” Clark nods.

“She used to do this to me all the time when we were younger. Make-up practice. Never really was meant for the stage, though. It’s easier just lying there pretending to be sawed in half.”

“Shame you had to resort to back-alley ziplining for Gotham’s most colourful.”

Bruce laughs, looking over his shoulder at the trail of wine that’s spread further and further towards the centre of the living room. “I’ll call housekeeping.”

“Don’t,” Clark says, a little too firmly, a hand on Bruce’s thigh.

“You like this,” Bruce raises an eyebrow, eyes infuriatingly smug. It actually hurts Clark, how much he wants this, as he brushes a hand through his hair. Contrary to what Bruce may say about his own stage presence, he does know how to put on a show. 

Clark sees it, all the time. Like in the way he closes his eyes for him the second he starts staring at the dark traces around his eyelids, top and bottom, gently smudging it with a thumb that he brings down to Bruce’s wet lips, already half-open for him. Bruce darts his tongue out, opening an eye to peek at Clark’s bright red face. 

“Fuck,” Clark growls, ignoring the fact that the wine has now seeped into the white carpet, and carries Bruce straight into the bedroom. 

“I just need a minute,” Clark says, kissing his face, which has taken on the light scent of powder on it. His brows even look sharper, more defined. More product there. Even in his hair, Clark can’t exactly name it, but there are all these new scents, new sensations he can feel on Bruce. It’s not just about the way he looks; this new, handsome Gothic socialite, but also the way it transpires into the air. The shift in the atmosphere.

“You’re doing the thing you do,” Bruce says, tipping his head backwards as Clark kisses his neck. 

“The thing?”

He continues, “The Kryptonian thing—where I’m not sure you’re even scanning me as human. It’s a good thing, by the way. Usually preempts the way you’re going to fuck me tonight.”

“Oh? So, like you’re not human?”

“Like I’m not as fragile as you think,” Bruce says, popping open the buttons on Clark’s plaid shirt and running his hand down his chest.

Several images come to mind then: Bruce, mouth full with his cock and smokey eyes looking up at him; Bruce, pressed deep into the week-old mattress until it breaks, looking up at him—still, probably with that smug grin of his; Bruce, riding him as he leans back against the headboard, holding him tight, everywhere, anywhere; Bruce, eyes wide open, or shut, or somewhere lost in between, yes. That’s what he wants.

“Had enough looking?” Bruce says, sitting up, tasting Clark’s dry lips with a whisper of a kiss. 

“Not nearly enough,” he breathes.

“Good thing you’re easy on the eyes, too, Kent,” Bruce says, slyly looking at him with a gaze that takes him apart completely.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic can be for any canon tbh but the concept of rpatz/cavill superbat: I would like to see it


End file.
